


Hibernation Sickness

by skybluetrades



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Aphrodisiacs, Bondage, Forced Bathing/Washing, M/M, Multi, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Pre-Star Wars: Return of the Jedi, slightly AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-29
Updated: 2015-12-29
Packaged: 2018-05-10 06:05:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5573638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skybluetrades/pseuds/skybluetrades
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Han gets freed from the carbonite, and let loose into a much worse situation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hibernation Sickness

**Author's Note:**

> Please mind the warnings! From the starwarskinkmeme. Original prompt and fic posted in the thread can be found [here.](https://starwarskinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/586.html?thread=67402#cmt67402)

Coming out of the carbonite had been like coming up for air after being underwater, and not just because his entire body was soaking wet. He felt his hair sticking to his head, his clothes clinging to his body. Before these sensations had much penetrated the fog of his mind, his feet slipped and he was falling forward. At the last second he curled away and landed on his shoulder, hard, with a grunt. Everything around him was black.

"Where am I?" he said. The classic question for when the sleeper woke. No one answered him directly, but a second later he heard enough noises in the room that made his question pretty meaningless.

"Idiot!" cried Jabba the Hutt from...some distance away. Far enough away for comfort, anyway, though not too much comfort. "Who freed him? I told you to hang him on the wall--"

"Jabba, wait," said Han, putting some things (but not everything) together. "Wait, now, hanging is _not_ necessary. I was just on my way to pay you back, so--"

"Wrong kind of hanging," said a voice next to him. A second later he was hauled to his feet, though he still couldn't tell by who. He kept blinking, expecting to be squinting in the light any second now, but there _was_ no light. Unless Jabba and his crew had taken to partying in the dark to save energy, he was probably in trouble. He was probably blind.

Jabba was still yelling, though at someone else, it seemed. Han blinked again, feeling like he was misunderstanding whatever Jabba was saying, whatever was happening. He tried to take a step forward, but whoever had a grip on his arm held him back. "Jabba," Han repeated. "Jabba, I was _just_ coming to pay you back, you gotta believe--"

"Forget it, Solo," said Jabba, speaking to Han for the first time. "You've let me down for the last time."

"That's not true," said Han. Whoever was holding onto him snickered at his side. "Jabba, if you'd just let me explain--it's different, this time I've _got_ the money--"

Jabba's roar of _Quiet!_ coincided with the person next to him saying in a low voice, "I'd shut up if I were you, Solo. You're not doing yourself much good."

"Just who the _hell_ are you, anyway?" he asked, turning to his side. He still couldn't see, of course, but this person didn't know that.

"Don't you have bigger problems right now?" muttered the guy before leading Han forward, towards Jabba.

After a brief and unfruitful interview with Jabba, Han found himself being led out, to a much quieter hallway. It had been years since he'd seen Jabba's palace; hell if he knew the layout, but he got the general idea that he was being led downwards. Down towards the dungeon, in other words.

Unluckily, he hadn't been given over to one of the less-talkative Gamorrean guards. Instead, it was the same person who had grabbed him after he'd fallen out of the carbonite. Han still had no idea who he was. 

"You don't remember me, do you?" asked the mysterious man with a smile in his voice.

"Should I?"

"We met once. On Mos Eisley. Don't you remember?"

Han wracked his brain; Jabba had called the guy Carrin, a name that maybe rang some bells in some distant part of his memory. But of course, without a face to go with it it wasn't much use. "Chewie was the name guy," he muttered, like an excuse.

"Well, Chewbacca's not here now, is he," said Carrin, still sounding cheerful. A little too cheerful, actually. Han, for obvious reasons, was less so. "For once you're on your own, Captain Solo. On your own and totally blind."

"Hey--"

"Did you really think no one noticed you can't see, Solo?" asked Carrin, and shit, he sounded positively giddy at the idea. "You nearly face-planted on the stairs back there."

"Just trying to get my bearings back," he muttered, but decided to not argue small details with this guy. Maybe (just _maybe_ , possibly) there was a way out of this. "Look, I don't know what your game is yet--"

"You haven't guessed yet?"

"Not yet," he said grimly. "But look, if you help me out of this, I swear, I can make it worth your while, just--"

"Oh, I have no doubt," said Carrin. "Watch your step."

The warning came too late; Han tripped on what seemed to be a door lintel, and, just as abruptly, Carrin let go of his arm. Han was falling once again, landing once again on his right shoulder. Before he could even stand himself back up, new hands were grabbing him, and this time they weren't human hands, or even organic ones. They were metal, and above him a droid was speaking.

"What are we supposed to do with him?"

"Just get him cleaned up, and wash his clothes," said the man who had brought Han here, in the same lackadaisical tone. " I'll be back for him shortly."

"Should we restrain him?"

He heard Carrin scoff. "He can't even see. Just be careful he doesn't hurt himself."

"Wait just a second," said Han. "Just hold up a damn minute. What's going on here?" The droids had started pulling at his clothes, trying to get him to raise his arms up, but he resisted even as their grips tightened. 

"You're going to make it worth my while, right?" said Carrin, and it was with an unpleasant dip in his stomach that Han realized the man was talking to him.

"That's not--"

"Just relax. I'll be back soon. It'll be better this way, trust me. You stink worse than the rancor right now, as it is."

"Wait--"

"He's gone, sir," said the droid from earlier. Another one of those annoyingly polite ones. "Lift your arms up, please."

"Go to hell."

In the end, it didn't matter, of course. They got his clothes off him, and he was led naked into a separate room, where he was doused in cold water and scrubbed down by rough, mechanical hands.

It probably should have been more unnerving to him than it was, but without his sight it was easy to get lost in his own thoughts. He listened for any sound of non-droid footsteps, but none came, and he was left wondering how long he'd been encased in the carbonite, and what had been happening without him. 

He wasn't normally the worrying type, but in this case he couldn't help being paralyzed by it. He wondered if Chewie and Leia had gotten away, if Luke had met up with them. Even as angry as he was, he even spared a thought for Lando, wondered just how his old friend's deal with Darth fucking Vader of all people had worked out for him. No matter how bad, Han supposed, it couldn't be much worse than his own situation. Assuming Lando (or any of them, for that matter) weren't actually dead.

Eventually, he was dry and dressed again, and while he was no longer cold, soaking wet, and drenched with his own desperate flop sweat, he couldn't be at ease because he was still blind. During his morose bathtime contemplations he'd started to wonder if it was going to be permanent.

"You have hibernation sickness," the droid told him, as if reading his thoughts. "Otherwise you seem unharmed."

Han had been blundering through pulling his boots back on in the dark, but he stopped and stared in the direction of the droids voice. "Are you saying that's why I can't see?"

"Yes, sir. Your eyesight should return within a day, maybe two."

He felt an unexpected rush of gratitude towards the droid, whoever they were. "Great. OK. Look, I need you to do me a favor and bring me to Jabba right away. I have to talk to him."

"Master Jabba has not called for you, sir."

"I _know_ that, but that doesn't matter. I need to talk with him."

"It was Master Sunder who asked me to clean you and your clothing, sir, and who said he would claim you later."

"Who the hell--" He stopped; of course he knew who Master Sunder was. "Look, I need to see Jabba. It's urgent. _Please_."

The droid didn't answer him; he might as well have been speaking to a wall. Hell, maybe he was, it wasn't like he could really see where they were.

He rubbed his eyes, as if that would bring his eyesight back any quicker. As he did, he felt a hand clap on his shoulder, and a familiar voice. "Much better." The same hand ran through his hair, and pulled him to his feet, not harshly but with a proprietary manner that annoyed Han. He wrenched himself away from Carrin, though he found himself running into something hard; the droid, it turned out, who Carrin was speaking to.

"You'd better give me the restraints there," he said. "If he starts getting his eyesight back he could cause trouble."

Han tried to pull away, but once again he was forced forward, his hands brought behind his back and cuffed there. "Let go--"

"Come on, Captain Solo," said Carrin, a nasty tone in his still bright, cheerful voice. "Come along. Watch your step."

As Carrin pulled him out of the droids' room and back into (what he guessed was) the hallway, Han wracked his brain, tried to remember everything he could about his meeting in Mos Eisley with Carrin. Unfortunately, not much was coming up. It was possible that they'd played cards together, and it was possible that Han had won, since even he managed that sometimes. He couldn't remember, though. The only concrete memories that came to mind about Carrin Sunder were that he had been a human, and had been taller than Han but shorter than Chewie. Nothing, in short, very helpful, or very useful to his blind, defenseless self.

He was led up some steps, and from the pneumatic hiss of a door probably into a bedroom of some sort. He'd been expecting to be led to a dungeon; in truth, he would have _preferred_ a dungeon. He would have preferred another unproductive chat with Jabba to this.

He was pushed forward again. His shins ran into something soft, and after another shove he was landing on a bed, his arms still tied behind him.

There was an awkward silence. Han sat still and realized that Carrin was probably looking at him, studying him. "Look, I really _don't_ have time for this--"

"That I doubt," said Carrin, stepping forward and grabbing Han by the hair again. He was still standing, and he wrenched Han's head back, as if making Han look up at him. 

There was another tense pause. Before he could stop himself, Han was speaking again. "What? What are you waiting for? Do you expect me to….to what, _beg_ you for my _life_?" 

Carrin chuckled and tightened his grip in Han's hair. "Do you want to?"

"No need. You can't kill me, you'd have to answer to Jabba."

"Who says I haven't? Maybe I paid him off for you."

"You couldn't afford it," Han sneered, though it was a bluff. Maybe that was exactly what had happened.

Carrin laughed. "Maybe I can't kill you, but what's to stop me from doing anything else?" Han opened his mouth, but Carrin laid his other hand over it. "Don't try to negotiate with me. You don't have anything to negotiate with."

In that moment, Han knew it was true. As soon as Carrin took his hand away, he opened his mouth to snap something back at him, but he hadn't even started when suddenly more hands were grabbing him, undoing his restraints but still holding onto his arms and making to pull off his shirt. Even though he fought even harder this time than he had against the droids, it seemed like an even shorter amount of time before he was naked, being held down on the bed by Carrin and at least one other person whose presence in the room Han hadn't even guessed at until now. 

"He's going to give us trouble," said the new person. A woman, it sounded like, with a softer, almost melodic voice somewhat belied by her incredibly bruising grip on his forearms.

Carrin had just managed to pull Han's pants down to his knees, although he hadn't yet been able to get Han's boots off from how much Han had been kicking. Without warning, Han felt a strike land on his stomach, and then another, right on his balls. It hurt, hurt so bad the corners of his useless fucking eyes welled up and he screamed, trying to curl in on himself. While he was writhing, the woman took the opportunity to attach a collar with a short length of chain around his neck.

 _At least you don't have to see for yourself just how ridiculous you look_ , said a voice in the back of his head, but somehow that just made him angrier.

Both pairs of hands had left him, and he heard Carrin and the woman conferring softly behind him. The chain on his collar seemed to be attached to the wall behind him, he found after pulling at it uselessly.

The two of them came at him again after a short while. Carrin grabbed him under the shoulders, holding him even as he thrashed, while the woman reached between his legs to cup his balls. Her hands were wet with something; when they touched him it felt warm and soothing, which was incredible considering how she was the one who had hit him just a few minutes before.

"No," he said, surprising himself as her hand moved back, penetrating him with one still wet, warm finger. For a second, whatever she had on her hands seemed to burn him, but it wasn't enough to be unpleasant. Rather, it left just enough of an itch to make him shudder, to send him into a whole body shiver. "Stop it," he said, as she penetrated him with another finger, twisting them and causing him to shudder once again and tighten his muscles around her finger. "I'm not--shit. I'm not going along with this."

The woman didn't answer him or stop what she was doing, but Carrin spoke. "I don't think you have much of a choice."

"That's--" He gasped again. The woman was working him up with her other hand, touching him and groping him even as she scissored her fingers inside him. What the _hell_ did she have on her fingers? "That's what I'm saying. It can't be that hard to find someone who wants to go along with this shit, can it?"

"What did I tell you about trying to negotiate?" said Carrin as the woman squeezed the head of his cock. "This isn't like that sabacc table back on Mos Eisley, you know. You can't cheat your way out of this one."

"I'm _not_ , I--oh god." He twisted away, or tried to. Whatever she was putting on him was too much, it was starting to burn him to the point of extreme discomfort. He tried to pull his legs up, bending his knees even as she kept touching him with the same slow regularity. "Stop it," he said, trying to look turn in the woman's direction, not even caring about the slightly whining edge in his voice.

To his amazement, she did. She pulled her fingers out of him, let go of his cock. Before he had much time to be grateful, though, Carrin was grabbing his wrists again and pushing Han's body up painfully to cuff them behind Han's back.

The woman hadn't spoken, but Carrin said something about leaving him to it, and suddenly he heard the hiss of the door again and he was alone (or seemed to be, anyway) in the bedroom.

He let out a long sigh, almost of relief. The entire lower half of his body was still oversensitized, though, alternating between too hot and much, much too cold. 

He shuddered again. He realized that he was hard from how the woman had been touching him, and that, contrary to what he'd thought, the sensation from whatever she'd had on her hands wasn't fading away. If anything, it only seemed to get stronger the longer he lay there. He felt that same itch everywhere the woman had been touching him, even in his ass. He wanted, needed to be touched again, and he flexed his wrists uselessly in the restraints.

Nothing he tried, from pressing his legs together to lying on his stomach humping the bed itself like a dog, didn't work. Even if he managed some measure of friction against his cock, he still felt unsatisfied. It wasn't enough; he realized with a cold flush that what he wanted was to be filled, either with his own fingers, with the woman's, or with something larger. He'd become completely indiscriminate.

He tried to keep still, but it was impossible to ignore the itch. He wondered just what the hell sort of aphrodisiac she had used on him. He'd never dealt in that sort of thing, because in his experience most substances that people proclaimed to enhance sexual pleasure or whatever did precisely fuck-all. You could basically sell anything to someone as long as you told them it was some fucked up sex drug, but despite that Han had never been much interested in the trade.

Lying there was torture, and trying to lie still was utterly impossible. He was stuck in his own black world, either focused on the horrible need in his lower body, or stuck in reflections on how everyone he cared about, Chewie, Leia, everyone, they were probably all dead and he was alone, completely alone and with no one to blame but himself.

In a way, it was almost a relief to hear the door slide open again. He bit his lip and tried to remain motionless, because he'd been writhing around on the bed fruitlessly pretty much the entire time he'd been left alone. His wrists were probably red and bleeding from how he'd been straining against the wrist cuffs.

The woman said something he couldn't hear, but he heard the laugh in Carrin's voice. 

"Well, Captain Solo?"

Han turned his head away from the direction of their voices; it was a symbolic action more than anything, of course, since he still couldn't see. 

He heard the rustle of fabric as Carrin leaned down. A second later Carrin was grabbing Han's shoulder, tilting Han's chin towards him, and pressing his lips against Han's. Han supposed he should have expected the kiss, but he hadn't really been expecting anything; what he'd been _hoping_ for was for Carrin to get this over with, take what he wanted and leave Han to sweat out the rest of the drug he'd been given in peace. Instead, his mouth was forced open under Carrin's, and a second later Carrin had grabbed his dick and was jerking roughly. Han bucked against him, and couldn't help letting out a muted sigh of pleasure against Carrin's mouth.

"There we are," said Carrin. "So much for not begging, huh?"

Han took the moment Carrin was speaking to clench his own jaw shut. No point speaking without purpose, after all. There was nothing left for him to say.

He kept moving his hips in time with Carrin's strokes. It still wasn't enough, but he knew any second now Carrin was probably going to fuck him, and while he wasn't exactly looking forward to it, at least it would satisfy him in one way.

That didn't happen, though. Eventually Carrin withdrew, and Han nearly whimpered in disappointment.

"Well?" asked Carrin.

"Well what?" he said through his teeth.

"Don't you want something? Something from me?"

"Fuck off," he said, but if anything his need had only gotten worse. He flexed his arms (as much as he could), arched his back and bucked his hips, but he couldn't bring himself to actually _ask_ Carrin to fuck him. It wasn't so much because of any misguided notions of pride or dignity; as mortified as he was with himself, with his situation, it was more just because, shit, how long had he been left dangling like this? He had no idea, no way of knowing, but it had felt like hours. They couldn't leave him here much longer; they had be done with him eventually. He would just wait it out until they were.

But that, of course, had been another miscalculation. Carrin was drawing away again, speaking (seemingly) to the woman. "I guess he's not desperate enough yet." 

He heard the woman's voice murmuring. "Do you want me to put some more on him?"

"No," Han gasped. "No, don't. Not necessary."

"I suppose he couldn't take too much more," said Carrin. "Look at him, he's nearly broken himself in half with just that little bit."

"Get fucked," spat Han. So much for not speaking without purpose. He clenched his fists and tried to keep still, as useless as he knew it to be.

He heard the woman's soft voice, saying something to Carrin before he could respond to Han's snarl. The two of them continued talking softly; they didn't leave the room this time, but their voices wandered further away. He heard the clink of glassware in the distance, and their low voices, as if they were at a party or a quiet cafe instead of in the same room with him as he went slowly out of his mind.

By the time Carrin approached him again, he was barely keeping it together. His eyes were wet, and he was breathing heavily. He had just enough awareness left to know that Carrin was close to him, and despite how disgusted it made him feel, a part of him felt a horrible anticipation. If he just _waited_ , it couldn't be much longer, couldn't be much longer until the man would use Han up and then toss him away. Han could wait. He didn't have to beg for Carrin to fuck him. There was no point; it was an inevitability. 

And he was right; suddenly, Carrin was grabbing his dick, and forcing Han's hips upwards so he could get under them. A second later, Carrin's fingers were plunging into him. The fingers were just barely slick enough to penetrate Han without causing discomfort, but shit, he was in such a state a little extra discomfort barely even fazed him. He let out a sigh and moved against the fingers. In a very short amount of time he was close to coming, so close that he didn't think there was any way to stop it.

So of course Carrin withdrew again. Han screamed and kicked his legs out in frustration, but he didn't hit anything. His voice was ragged, his screams sounding more like ones of pain than frustration. 

"What do you want, Han?" asked a low voice, surprisingly close to him, and, even more surprisingly, belonging to the woman. 

He took a deep breath. Even stringing together words seemed beyond him at this point. "I want--I want. Touch me."

"Just touch you?"

"Please," he breathed out in a sigh. " _Please_ \--"

"You need to be fucked," she said, as if helping him along. Feeding him the words.

"I need to be fucked," he repeated. It was pretty much all he could do, all he could say. "Just fuck me, or...or knock me out. I can't take this anymore, I can't--" She shushed him, but it really was the truth. He would have preferred unconsciousness, or the carbonite again, to this.

The woman rewarded him by reaching down and squeezing his cock, or at least he thought it was her. He had ceased to be able to tell the different pairs of hands apart, and he was being manhandled between them so insistently it didn't even matter. 

He thought it was probably Carrin who actually held Han's hips still and pushed his dick inside in one forceful stroke. Carrin's grunt was nearly lost under Han's moan of pleasure. Han was being held by the woman, his face buried in the soft fabric of her shirtfront, and as Carrin fucked him he could rub his own erection against the soft bedcovers. It was better, but he wanted to be touched, wanted to squeeze his own cock as he finally got filled as he had wanted to be for what felt like hours.

Neither Carrin nor the woman freed his hands, but eventually she pushed Carrin away after he'd pulled out for a stroke, and manhandled Han so that Han was lying face up. She worked his cock, this time with a hand that was mercifully free of any foreign substance. He nearly sobbed with relief, his own voice worn thin with all the noise he'd been making, when she squeezed the head of his cock. He was being held down by both of them, moving between them, when one more hard thrust from Carrin had him groaning and coming into the woman's hand.

His orgasm had robbed him of all his energy; hardly surprising, since he'd barely had any to begin with. He collapsed like a dead weight against the woman's body behind his back, but Carrin still hadn't finished fucking him. Without the delirium of the aphrodisiac and Han's own arousal, it was close to painful, and certainly too intense for him. It probably wasn't long before Carrin came inside Han, digging his nails into Han's hipbones as he did, but it felt like ages. When Carrin finally pulled out, Han sighed, finally able to collapse, and he sank into an insensibility that was helped along by the blackness of his vision.

He didn't fall asleep, or if he did it wasn't for very long, because suddenly their voices were coming at him from a short distance away. This time, though, he understood them perfectly. Maybe now that he was less distracted it was easier to make out what they were saying.

"There's your fee," said Carrin's voice. "Paid in full, plus a little something extra for you. Everything look in order?"

"I think so," said the woman. Her voice was less soft and musical-sounding; she was talking business now.

"Thank you again. You did a wonderful job."

"Thank you, sir," she said, as Han made a face. After a second, she spoke again: "Make sure you clean him off. The topical stimulant I used is very potent. It needs to be rinsed off before too long. And make sure he gets water. The substance tends to dehydrate humans very badly."

"He's not _my_ slave, you know," said Carrin. "I'm just borrowing him."

"I know that," she said, sounding sharper still. "I'm just passing along the information." And it occurred to Han that she had probably figured Carrin would not bring himself to care what happened to Han afterwards, and that she had probably said all of that for Han's own benefit. It was hard to feel very grateful; while maybe she hadn't had any more of a choice in what had happened than he had, at least she had gotten _paid_ for her trouble.

Still, he did as she said. Carrin released him from the chain around his neck and the cuffs on his wrists, and led him into a washroom. It was hard to wash himself while he was blind, and hard to get dressed again, and awkward to do it all while he knew Carrin was standing there watching him, but he did as she said.

"So," said Carrin, still indefatigably amused. "I suppose from now on, at least, you'll remember me."

"I still have no idea what you look like," said Han, splashing the cool water on his face. "In fact, I'd be pretty happy if I never got my eyesight back again, just so I'd never have to see your fucking face."

He heard Carrin snort, but otherwise make no reply. He didn't speak to Han again, in fact, until he had brought him down once more to the lower levels of Jabba's palace, where the dungeons were.

"I'm sure Jabba will give you another audience soon," Carrin told him as he opened the door of a cell and started to undo the wrist cuffs. "But don't worry." He clapped Han on the shoulder, and suddenly his mouth was right by Han's ear, speaking into it unpleasantly. "You'll see me again before you know it."

Luckily for Han, when Carrin removed the wrist cuffs, his hands were free long enough to reach out and punch the other man in the nose. Unluckily for Han, he was in the middle of a dungeon, with plenty of Jabba's guards around him before he could blink his non-functional eyes. Even if they hadn't been, Han would not have bet much money on himself in a fight in his current state. The guards didn't bother to rough him up too much before they locked him in, but when he was left alone in the cell he had a few bruises to go along with all the other soreness in his body. 

At the very least, he seemed to be alone finally. He huddled by the cell's door, straining his ears for any approaching footsteps, not wanting anyone to get the jump on him again.

No one bothered him again until the middle of the night, or what he thought was the middle of the night; the other inhabitants of the cells had quieted down, and he heard some distant snores from the Gamorrean guards down the hall. He heard quiet footsteps in the distance, but didn't lift his head up until whoever it was was right next to him.

"Han?"

All of the tension bled out of him in a second. "Lando. Lando? What the--"

Lando shushed him. Unconsciously, Han had reached for the bars of the cell, and Lando rested his hand on top of Han's fingers. "Keep your voice down."

"Where--"

Lando squeezed his hand. "I said shut the hell up. I don't have a lot of time. I'm here undercover." He paused, and seemed to guess at the question on the top of Han's mind. "Everyone else is fine; Leia, Chewie, they're all safe on the _Falcon_ , and your Jedi friend too--"

"Jedi friend?"

"Skywalker. The weird Jedi guy."

" _Luke_?" He shook his head; that bit of astonishing news could wait. "Look, Lando, I'm next to useless right now if you're looking for help in a fight. I can't see anything--"

"Relax. Chewie and Leia are bringing the _Falcon_ along soon, and Skywalker's accompanying them. Backup's on the way, alright?" He paused; Han realized that he was still gripping Lando's fingers tightly through the bars, and had been doing so throughout the entire conversation. "Are you...alright?"

"I'm fine," Han snapped, but he didn't let go. "I love being blind and defenseless and in prison. I've never been better, thanks for asking."

Lando sighed. "You just gotta hold on, just a little bit longer. Alright?"

"Fine."

"Can't let that shining personality of yours get spoiled, after all."

Han rolled his eyes, and they sat there in silence for a length of time. Lando was the one who broke it, clapping him on the shoulder through the bars. 

"I've got to go before they catch me down here. Don't worry, alright? I'll keep an eye on you till the cavalry arrives." He hesitated. "I'll keep _both_ eyes on you, how does that sound?"

"Perfect. All my worries are gone," he said, the sarcastic edge still in his voice, but his heart wasn't in it, and Lando probably knew him too well not to see that, not to hear the relief in Han's voice. With one last squeeze, Lando let go of his hand and stole his way out of the dungeon. Han listened to his soft footsteps, and eventually leaned his head against the bars, weak with exhaustion and, despite everything, relief.


End file.
